


On the Ledge

by VoicesOffCamera



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Archery, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Deaf Clint Barton, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Brainwashing, Snipers, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoicesOffCamera/pseuds/VoicesOffCamera
Summary: “It had been a year since Bucky had been rescued and he still hadn’t told Steve that he remembered every excruciating detail from his time as an assassin for Hydra. If Steve knew what Bucky did, he’d realize that Bucky shouldn’t be anywhere near innocent civilians, shouldn’t be put in charge of anyone else’s wellbeing.”Bucky is fairly certain that he will never fit in to this new time and place he’s found himself in. But he will find hope - and maybe something more - from the last place that he expected.





	On the Ledge

**(IMAGE CREDIT GOES TO [ruby-white-rabbit](https://ruby-white-rabbit.tumblr.com/))**

* * *

“What the hell do you need two snipers for?”

“You can never have too many eyes on the field, Buck,” Steve said.

“Sure you can,” Bucky pointed out. “It’s called overkill.”

“With two snipers you can watch each other’s backs,” Steve insisted. “Never a bad idea to have backup.”

“I know what you’re doing, Steve,” Bucky said wearily, cutting the pretense.

Steve finally looked away from his locker where he was organizing his gear for the upcoming mission. He raised his eyebrows in an attempt to look perplexed, but Steve was a terribly liar. “What am I doing?”

“Trying to get me back out in the world,” Bucky said with a heavy sigh.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Steve said with a smirk.

“I don’t think I really fit in to this world anymore,” Bucky said, shrugging one shoulder halfheartedly.

“I used to feel the same way,” Steve said sympathetically. “I know how disorienting it is to suddenly find yourself missing so many years. But it is possible to find purpose in the here and now. It’s an adjustment, but you’ll never adjust if you don’t set foot outside the Tower.”

“It’s not the same, Steve,” Bucky said with a frown. “You took a seventy-year nap. You didn’t do the things that I’ve done. You’ve never not been able to trust your own mind.”

“Tony and Bruce are positive they’ve wiped out all the programing,” Steve assured him gently. “And anything you did before, it wasn’t you. It was Hydra. The responsibility doesn’t fall on your shoulders. And if you don’t start moving forward, you’ll never be able to let go of the past.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Bucky said quietly.

“C’mon, Buck.” Steve reached out and firmly clasped his shoulder. “It’s a routine mission. Just tag along and watch Barton’s back. If it doesn’t help, I won’t make you come on any other missions, I promise.”

Bucky had to admit, once Steve made up his mind, come hell or high water he’d never let it go.

“Fine.”

“Good,” Steve said with a smile and a nod. He turned and slung his gear bag over his shoulder, calling back to Bucky as he headed out of the room. “Gear up, we’re wheels up in twenty.”

Alone in the gear room, Bucky let out another sigh as he leaned one shoulder heavily up against one of the lockers. “This is a bad idea.”

James Buchanan Barnes had spent the last seventy years brainwashed and used as an assassin for Hydra. There were still mornings where he woke up and couldn’t believe that hellish part of his life was finally over. It seemed beyond any logic that Steve had managed to not only find him and rescue him, but also his friends were able to clear the Hydra programming in his head.

Steve had been his anchor for the past year since Bucky had been able to finally reclaim his own life once again. Steve was there for him with his endless support and optimism. But Bucky suspected that Steve wouldn’t be so optimistic if he knew the whole story. Steve had assumed that Bucky’s brainwashing meant that he didn’t remember anything from his time with Hydra. Steve looked at Bucky’s experience as the same as his own, suddenly waking up and finding that seventy years had passed while he had slept.

It had been a year since Bucky had been rescued and he still hadn’t told Steve that he remembered every excruciating detail from his time as an assassin for Hydra. If Steve knew what Bucky did, he’d realize that Bucky shouldn’t be anywhere near innocent civilians, shouldn’t be put in charge of anyone else’s wellbeing.

But he realized that this was finally his way out. He just had to suck it up and stay out of the fray for this one mission and he could finally get Steve off his back.

Eighteen minutes later, Bucky had donned his bulletproof, one armed jacket with his sniper rifle case slung over his shoulder and was striding through the hanger toward the Quinjet. He made a conscious effort to keep his shoulders back and his head up, attempting to look more confident than he felt.

He climbed the open ramp up into the back of the Quinjet to find both Steve and Natasha Romanoff taking inventory of their supplies.

Steve looked up and smiled. “Hey Bucky.”

Bucky merely nodded in response as he shrugged his rifle case off his shoulder and put it near one of the seats in the back of the jet.

He sent an uneasy glance back at Romanoff. This was a person with every right to loathe him – after all, as the Winter Soldier, he had shot her years ago in order to kill the man she had been protecting – and yet over the past year she had been nothing but friendly to him. It was a puzzle that he just could not understand.

“Glad you could make it,” Romanoff said, sending a smile at him. “It’s always nice to have someone else to help keep Barton in line.”

Bucky honestly wasn’t sure if she was being sincere or not, so he just gave another awkward nod.

It was another ten minutes before another voice broke the awkward silence.

“Apologies for being late!” Stark announced loudly as he strode up the ramp. “I’d explain why my experiment went longer than expected, but I’m sure it would go over all of your heads.”

“Don’t worry, we’re still waiting on Clint,” Steve said with an impressive amount of patience.

On cue, the final set of footsteps clamored up the ramp. “Sorry I’m late!”

“Barton, do you have any idea the importance of punctuality at a time like this?” Stark demanded.

“Save it, Stark, I saw you running down the hallway just ahead of me,” Barton said with a grin as he launched himself up the ramp, a quiver slung over his shoulder. He looked over at Romanoff. “Nat, any chance you know what happened to my bow? Or my backup bow?”

Natasha rolled her eyes as she produced a bow, tossing it over to him. “Came across this on the roof, figured you’d be looking for it.”

“And you didn’t think it worth letting me know you found it?” Clint said as he effortlessly grabbed the bow out of the air without breaking stride as he headed up toward the cockpit. “I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to find this thing for the past hour!”

“Maybe that will teach you to keep better tabs on your damn weapons,” Romanoff called after him as he disappeared into the front of the jet.

As far as Bucky could tell, Clint Barton was a blur. After several months of living in Avengers Tower, Bucky had been floored when Steve told him that Barton was their sniper. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen the man just be still. Even sitting at the table at team dinners, he was constantly reaching for things and was always bouncing with barely contained energy. He reminded Bucky of a hyperactive child. And admittedly, the fact that Barton was the one who was supposed to be watching over Steve on missions made Bucky uneasy.

“_He’s_ piloting?” Bucky asked Steve skeptically in an undertone as the jet rumbled to life.

“He’s our best pilot,” Steve assured him with a smile. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “Relax Buck. You just haven’t gotten to know the guy.”

Grudgingly, Bucky didn’t have anything to say to that. Considering he had mostly kept to himself over the past year, it was fair to say that he hadn’t gotten to know any of the team. If he wasn’t hiding away in his apartment at Avengers Tower, he tended to be following Steve around like a lost puppy. He just didn’t feel comfortable in today’s world and he was starting to think that perhaps he never would.

Bucky settled into a seat next to Steve just as the jet took off. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, doubts creeping in on him now that they were actually on their way. He shouldn’t have come. He could compromise this whole mission. There was absolutely no reason for him to be here. Not on this jet and not in this world.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when Steve gently bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his own.

“Mission brief,” Steve told him when Bucky sent him a questioning look.

They must have reached cruising altitude, since at a glance Bucky saw that Barton was now leaning in the doorway to the cockpit, arms crossed over his chest. It was a rare moment in which the guy was standing still. He had an impressively intense gaze as he watched Stark pulling up the holo-table in the middle of the jet. He realized Barton’s eyes were a shade of blue-gray that Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen before.

And then, almost as if he had sensed his gaze, Barton’s gaze very suddenly darted over to catch Bucky staring at him. Bucky caught the beginnings of a grin before he quickly adverted his gaze to the center of the jet where everyone else was gathered. His cheeks suddenly felt warm.

Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling twisting in his chest, Bucky pushed himself to his feet as he waited for the briefing to start.

“Our target is Alexander Moyer,” Romanoff said. A hologram of the man sprung up on the holo-table. “On the surface, the man is a standup citizen and a philanthropic CEO of a large company. But what we know is that his real money comes from illegal weapons trafficking. The problem is that every time we’ve gotten close to catching him, he always has a scapegoat ready to take the fall. To our knowledge, he had been supplying weapons to illegal wars and criminal organizations all over the world for at least the past ten years.”

She swiped the hologram away, replacing in with a 3D hologram of what appeared to be a destroyed city, fires still burning.

“In the past year, Moyer has apparently decided to get more enterprising,” Romanoff went on clinically. “He’s been using his own weapons to take out any perceived competition. The biggest problem with this is that he doesn’t bother with his due diligence and as a result has bombed several towns and cities that have nothing to do with his competition. It seems a mere rumor is enough to get him hit the button.”

“Bit of a trigger finger,” Stark commented dryly.

“So how do we get him?” Steve demanded.

“At this time, we don’t have enough on him to warrant an assassination,” Romanoff said. “He has too many fail safes in place. He’s the only person with the knowledge of where all his weapons are stashed, and if we don’t hit all the sites at once there’s every possibility his henchmen will unleash hell in the event of Moyer’s untimely death. SHIELD has been infiltrating the organization for months to gain the intel on the locations of his warehouses as well as manufacturing plants. We need the location of all of them before we can take him out.”

“It’s the only reason the bastard doesn’t have an arrow in his eye socket right now,” Barton spoke up.

“So, what’s our priority for this mission?” Steve asked. “More intel?”

“Launch codes,” Romanoff corrected. “Our intel has revealed that there is only one set of launch codes for Moyer’s most dangerous missiles, and they are kept on a flashdrive that Moyer keeps on his person at all times. Acquiring those launch codes will at least limit the magnitude of Moyer’s attacks and hopefully slow him down until we’re able to organize a hit. So, that’s our mission.”

“Moyer rarely makes public appearances,” Stark interjected as he swiped the hologram to display the layout of a city. “He’s made an exception for his major legitimate client. Lucien Choffard is throwing a bit of a gala for major tech companies that he has worked with through his various charities. Moyer is set to be there in order to smooze and booze, playing the part of generous philanthropist. It’s likely the only opportunity we’ll get to get that flashdrive.”

“The gathering is being held here,” Romanoff said, indicating a high-rise hotel in the middle of the holographic map. “There’s no doubt that Moyer will travel with bodyguards, but also when hacking into the hotel’s files I found that the second, third and fourth floors have all be completely bought out by a nonexistent shell corporation. It’s likely to house more of Moyer’s security detail in the event he feels compromised.”

“So, with three entire floors blocked out, it’s safe to assume he’s bringing his own personal army,” Stark said.

“Stark made the list for a personal invitation from Choffard,” Romanoff said.

“Because I am so very special,” Stark said with an obnoxious grin.

“In addition to Stark’s invitation, I was able to procure two more,” Romanoff went on as if Stark hadn’t spoken. “One for me and one for Steve. Steve obviously can’t go in under the radar, but Moyer also won’t be able to explicitly avoid him without drawing attention. In fact, we’re banking on the spectacle of Steve to be our distraction to allow me to get close enough to get the drive.”

“I maintain that I am also a spectacle,” Stark interjected.

“Clint and Barnes will cover exits from here.” Romanoff indicated one of the taller buildings about two blocks away. Despite himself, Bucky stepped closer to get a better look. “Clint already scouted the location and it’ll give you both a clear line on both exits. You’ll both monitor the situation from outside and provide cover should the mission goes south.”

“You mean when Stark blows your cover?” Barton snarked with a good-natured smirk.

Bucky couldn’t help the amused snort that was thankfully covered by Stark’s offended huffing. Mostly anyway, he realized as Steve sent him an amused smirk, which Bucky rolled his eyes at. He wasn’t here to socialize. He was here to keep his head down and get through this one mission in order to appease Steve.

With his part covered, Bucky went back to his seat and busied himself with checking over his rifle while the others continued with strategy. At a glance, he saw that Barton had also disappeared back into the cockpit. Bucky wasn’t quite sure why he was checking on Barton of all people’s whereabouts. But as he worked, his gaze strangely kept flicking over to the door where Barton had been standing.

“Look alive, wheels down in ten!” Barton finally called.

Bucky let out a measured breath as everyone took their seats in preparation of landing. He could get through this. It was a simple enough mission and with any luck it would be over with quickly.

Barton landed impressively smoothly just outside of the city. It would draw too much attention if they all trooped into the city at once, so Bucky and Barton were sent ahead to get in to position while the others got ready for the gala.

“Clint, you forgot your bulletproof vest,” Romanoff called after him as he was already trotting down the ramp.

“This mission is practically a milk run, I’m not lugging that thing around all day for that!” Barton called back with a dismissive wave of his hand as he didn’t break stride.

Bucky eyed Barton as he fell in to step behind him. In contrast to Bucky’s military-like gear, Barton was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. If it weren’t for the quiver and bow slung across his back, he’d look like he was just out for a casual stroll.

With their weapons, Bucky and Barton had to make their way through the city without drawing attention. That meant a lot of back alleys and – to Bucky’s relief – a silent journey as they hugged the shadows of the tall buildings. As Bucky followed Barton, he was impressed at how quickly he moved. Even with Bucky’s enhanced stamina, at times he actually had to work to keep up.

“Here we are,” Barton announced, slowing to a stop and gesturing at the building.

Bucky looked up, automatically analyzing the building and its proximity to their target building. He had to admit that is was a prime location. The hotel was situated on a corner and the building Barton had picked stood perpendicular to that building two blocks away, with a couple smaller buildings in between.

Even from here Bucky could tell it was the perfect post. But even so, the thought of spending hours on the roof of that building with another person made Bucky’s skin crawl. He wasn’t made for this. At least not in this era. The safest thing for him in this day and time was to be locked up in isolation.

“You don’t think it makes more sense for us to split up?” Bucky said, straining to look for another building with a decent vantage point. “Cover more ground?”

“Trust me, I scouted the crap out of the area last week,” Barton said, following Bucky’s gaze to the rooftops. “That’s the best vantage point and covers both major exits.” He looked over at Bucky and grinned. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. C’mon.”

As Barton trotted off, Bucky sighed heavily to himself. At least sniper work was primarily a silent activity in his experience. He figured they’d camp in opposite corners of the roof and quietly pass the next few hours. That thought finally had him hurrying after Barton. 

Barton led him around to the back of the building where a fire escape was situated.

“Hope you’re ready for your cardio for the day,” Barton said with a grin as he jumped up to grab the bottom rung of the metal ladder hanging above him. He swung his legs together a few times before he swung his legs up and over his head, hooking on a rung up higher on the ladder. Then he swung his upper body up and, balancing on the rung before vaulting himself up to grab the railing of the platform on the second floor, swinging himself underneath it.

For a moment, Bucky just stood and stared. Somehow, he hadn’t imagined that Barton would be so… graceful.

“You comin’?”

Bucky blinked, shaking himself out of his stupor at the sound of Barton’s voice and he strode forward. He made quick work of the ladder but as he climbed up onto the first landing, he looked up and found that Barton was already up another three stories.

Damn the guy was fast.

By the time Bucky climbed over the ledge and onto the roof, Barton was already at the other end, his bow now held loosely in his hand as he surveyed the vantage point critically.

“Pretty decent wind today,” Barton said as Bucky approached. “Gonna have to account for that. There’s a flag that’ll serve as a decent wind gage two blocks that way.” He pointed, and Bucky followed the gesture to confirm. Barton glanced up. “Pretty overcast, but visibility shouldn’t be too effected. All in all, it’s a good day to be a sniper.” He looked at Bucky and grinned.

Bucky just blinked blankly. It was a solid assessment of the conditions, but he just couldn’t get his mind around how Barton could be so… _upbeat_ at a time like this.

“Well,” Barton said after an awkward silence. “Don’t talk my hearing aids out yet, we’ve still likely got a few hours to kill before we see any action. You want the south or east door?”

Bucky looked over the ledge and surveyed their target building. From this vantage point, it was even more obvious how ideal the spot was. As much as Bucky was disappointed to be stuck with the chattiest sniper he’d ever encountered, he couldn’t help but be impressed that Barton had found the spot. It certainly wasn’t an obvious one, being several blocks away from the target. The guy did know his stuff, Bucky reluctantly admitted to himself.

“I’ll take east,” Bucky said as he shifted in the direction.

“You got it,” Barton said because, apparently, he couldn’t let _anything_ go without comment.

Bucky busied himself with setting up his sniper rifle on the ledge of the building. He set up a small, portable stand to stabilize the rifle and then went about adjusting his scope. He glanced at the flag for a gage of the wind and then decided to shift the stand down the building a few steps farther.

As he was resetting, he glanced over at Barton. He had shifted his quiver from his back to hang on his belt and was now adjusting the tension on his bowstring while still surveying the target building with his sharp gaze. Then, very suddenly, Clint’s eyes snapped over to Bucky in order to catch him staring… again.

“Something I can help you with, or are you just window shopping?” Barton said with a smirk.

God, why did his cheeks heat up so easily, Bucky thought as he tore his gaze away and went back to his rifle as if there were any way he could pretend that hadn’t happened.

“So… why a bow and arrow?” Bucky mumbled. Maybe there was a chance that Barton would think that’s why he was staring. However, judging by the knowing look on Barton’s face when he furtively glanced over, there wasn’t a chance in hell Barton believed that’s what Bucky had been thinking about.

But thankfully, he humored him. “I had a bow and arrow act back in the circus I grew up in. It’s the weapon that I first learned to aim with and it just kind of… stuck.”

Bucky already knew this, having read the files on the other Avengers before Steve moved him into the Tower. “Wouldn’t a rifle be more practical?”

“I’ll use a rifle from time to time, but it’s way less practical,” Barton said. “It tends to feel too heavy to me and pulls my aim down if I’m not careful. My bow is easier to transport, and you can’t beat how quiet it is as a stealth weapon. But my favorite thing about the bow is that it doesn’t restrict my view of the rest of the field. Looking through a tiny scope is just too restricting for me. I like to be able to see the whole picture.”

“That’s not really the job of a sniper,” Bucky said without thinking, the logic having been ingrain in him since boot camp. A sniper wasn’t in charge of big picture, a sniper was in charge of taking out marks.

“Never said I was just a sniper,” Barton said with a shrug and a smile.

Bucky blinked, thrown off by that statement. As he understood it, Barton was above the action with a precision weapon. Wasn’t that the very definition of a sniper? But he decided not to pursue it as he shifted his attention back to his rifle. All he was here to do was get through this mission, he certainly wasn’t here to socialize.

Apparently, Barton didn’t have the same philosophy.

“My bow has been the most stable thing in my life,” he said, his tone taking an unexpectedly serious note. “At least until Loki. After what I had done with my bow while under his control… couldn’t even pick up the damn thing for months.”

Bucky froze, his mind blank. He of course knew about the Loki incident, had read the report and been filled in by Steve. He knew that Barton had been brainwashed and forced into Loki’s service, but he hadn’t put much thought into the implications of what that actually meant. After all, watching Barton grin and joke around all the time, it was easy to forget he had been through anything like that.

“So, you… remember what happened?” Bucky found himself saying quietly, his eyes remaining determinedly on the target building. “Remember… what you did?”

“At first I didn’t remember much,” Barton said. “I had brief glimpses of what I’d done, but nothing substantial. Maybe I just didn’t have time to remember, what with having to jump right in to a war. But over the next couple days…” He paused and shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then back. “Every damn detail eventually came back to me.” There was a darkness in his tone, one that Bucky could painfully relate to. “What about your memories? How long did it take for them to start to come back?”

Bucky went completely still, as if completely frozen in place. The question hung heavily in the air between them as Bucky’s mind struggled to catch up. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the building and looked over at Barton. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but it certainly hadn’t been the empathy that Barton showed in his steady gaze.

It wasn’t that Barton felt bad for him… it was that he knew exactly what it was like.

“How do you know I remember anything?” Bucky mumbled. After all, he seemed to have Steve convinced that he didn’t remember anything.

“I’ve seen it,” Barton said simply. “It’s in the way that you avoid being near anybody else, thinking you’re dangerous. How you move your metal arm as little as possible if anyone is near you, because you know exactly what kind of damage it can do. It’s especially obvious in the way that you avoid Nat like the plague. You’re certainly not BFFs with anyone else in the Tower, but Nat is the only one that you make an honest effort to leave the room when she enters.” His voice dropped, gentle. “You remember what the Winter Soldier did to her.”

For a moment, Bucky forgot to breathe. He took an unconscious step back away from Barton, watching the man warily.

“I… I didn’t…” he stuttered weakly, his eyes wild. But what could he say? There was certainly no defending his actions.

“It’s okay,” Barton assured quickly, putting out a placating hand. “Take it easy, I didn’t call you out on it to blame you or anything. I just thought… well there aren’t too many people in the world that understand what it’s like to not be in control of yourself, you know? I thought maybe I could help.”

“There is no help for me,” Bucky said darkly.

“I thought the same thing,” Barton said. “It’s not easy to separate who you are from what you did. Trust me, I know.” He took a careful step forward. “But you can’t be held responsible for what you have no control over. When you were given the luxury of free will, you chose the good guys. That means something. That says so much more than anything you did under the influence of mind control or brainwashing.”

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. Steve had been harping on the idea that Bucky wasn’t responsible for what he did while controlled by Hydra every chance he got for the past year. But somehow, coming from Barton, the words suddenly held so much more weight. It certainly wasn’t an instant cure, life didn’t work that way. But for the first time, Bucky could feel his walls lowering just a fraction.

“I can remember every person that I hurt or killed while I was the Winter Soldier,” Bucky said quietly. “I can remember every single detail with an unnatural clarity.” He paused and then went on, pained. “But I can’t remember what color my mother’s hair was. Or what my father’s voice sounded like. Or hold old I was when I met Steve. I get small bursts of details from my life before… before this.” He gave a defeated gesture toward his metal arm. “But most of it is just… gone. Like my life before Hydra was just a vague dream.”

“I can’t imagine how awful that is,” Barton said sympathetically. “No wonder you have a hard time separating yourself from what Hydra made you do. You don’t have much else to hold on to, do you?”

Bucky took in a shuddering breath, forcibly controlling himself. This wasn’t the time or the place for this.

“Steve put you up to this?” Bucky asked gruffly, just to shift the focus to anything else.

“No,” Barton said. When had he gotten so much closer? Barton was suddenly standing only a few steps from him, leaning on the ledge almost casually, like it was any old day. “As far as I can tell, Steve believes you when you tell him you don’t remember anything. Which isn’t surprising. Cap sometimes likes to live in his own little world sometimes, you know?”

Bucky nodded vaguely. Boy, did he know.

“I am sorry for what happened with… with Romanoff,” Bucky finally said. “I know it wasn’t my choice, but still.” He paused to clear his throat. “I’m glad I didn’t kill her.”

Inexplicably, Barton _laughed_. “Yeah, me too. That wasn’t all that long after I sprung her from the Red Room, it would have been a bitch to have to already find a new partner.” Bucky blinked, dumbstruck for a moment. Barton noticed and sobered slightly. “It was a long time ago. It was scary at the time, especially since I had to be dispatched to retrieve her before she bled out. But she’s fine now.” He shrugged one shoulder. “So, why hold a grudge?”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “So… so, you and Romanoff… you’re…”

“We’re not together,” Barton interjected with a smirk, reading the implication.

Sonofabitch, were Bucky’s cheeks flushing _again_?

“Oh,” was all Bucky could come up with.

Why had he asked? Why did he care?

“_Look alive, boys._” Both of them jerked in surprise as their comms. suddenly came to life, Romanoff’s voice now in their ears. Her tone was tense. “_Hope you’re ready for some action. Focus on the east exit._”

“Things go to shit already, Nat?” Barton asked as he shifted closer to Bucky. He tightened his grip on his bow, his free hand hovering over the quiver hanging at his hip. “You’ve been in there, what, twenty minutes? That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

_“Cap’s been compromised. At least eight hostiles, more coming down the stairwell. Converge on east exit.”_

Everything inside of Bucky froze, his heart skidding to a stop in his chest. Steve was in danger. That didn’t make sense though. That wasn’t the mission. What the hell had gone so wrong so quickly?

And suddenly, Barton wasn’t beside him anymore. Instead, he was standing tall on top of the ledge, fully exposed as he gazed down intently at the east exit, an arrow nocked loosely on his bowstring.

“Sit rep, Nat, what the hell is going on down there?” Barton demanded.

_“They’re taking Cap! There was an ambush set up, Cap’s been incapacitated. Look for their extraction plan.”_

“Bucky?” Bucky’s eyes shot up to fix on Barton. No one called him Bucky. No one but Steve. But in that moment, it was what Bucky needed in order to be grounded back in the present moment. Barton spoke lowly so as not to be picked up on the comms. “Take a breath and I need you to focus. We’re going to save Steve, I promise.”

What was this, amateur hour? Bucky didn’t freeze in the middle of a mission. He took the instructed breath and forced himself to focus. He’s be damned if someone took Steve on the one mission he had been talked in to tagging along.

“Skies are clear,” Barton said louder, back on mission. “Barnes, you have eyes on any suspicious vehicles?”

Bucky carefully scanned the roads below through the scope on his rifle. There weren’t many cars that were out and about that day. Bucky scanned each vehicle carefully, analyzing each for potential threats.

“I don’t like the look of that SUV and his two friends,” Bucky finally said, focusing in on the black SUV being followed by two utility vans as they were heading toward their target building at an increasing speed. “Three o’clock, heading for two.”

Barton’s gaze snapped to the vehicle. He watched it for a moment before he smoothly drew his bow. “Yeah, that’s shady as shit.”

He released the arrow. Bucky watched it tear through the air and sink into the front tire of the SUV, causing the driver to lose control and go skidding to a stop. In the next breath, Barton had drawn two more arrows, firing one after the other into the front tires of the two following vehicles. Three perfect shots from eighteen stories up and three blocks away without the aid of a scope.

“Damn,” Bucky muttered, a note of awe in his tone.

Barton shot him a smirk. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”

_“Incoming!” _

They both snapped their attention back to the target building at Romanoff’s command. The east doors had exploded open, a veritable army emerging as gunshots echoed off the surrounding buildings.

“Bucky, you have eyes on Cap?” Barton demanded, another arrow drawn.

“Negative, negative,” Bucky said quickly, knowing that they couldn’t fire until they knew for sure where Steve was amongst the sudden mass of people.

Then, very suddenly, the gunfire stopped.

_“We’ve got a standoff, they’re missing their getaway car,” _Romanoff reported.

“You’re welcome,” Barton quipped. “Nat, you have eyes on Rogers? We got no joy up here.”

_“The guys have him pinned at my eleven o’clock,” _Romanoff reported. _“Stark is taking a back exit to come circle around behind them in order to pin them in. Hold fire until he’s in position.”_

The tension in the air was heavy as the seconds ticked away. Bucky carefully scanned the crowd with his scope, analyzing each figure before moving on to the next. They were frantic with the loss of their escape vehicle and apparently didn’t had a backup plan.

Finally, Bucky caught just a glimpse of blonde hair low in the crowd.

“Got eyes on Steve,” Bucky said lowly.

Barton slowly lowered to a crouch on the ledge to be more on Bucky’s level, his gaze sharp as he continued to scan the mass. “Where?”

“Street sign on northeast corner.”

“Got it.”

“Drop about ten mils to the cluster of three hostiles.”

There was a pause.

“Got it.”

“I just got a glimpse of his head down by the west man’s hip.”

Another pause.

“Nat, we’ve both got eyes on Cap,” Barton reported into the comm.

_“You see a play?”_

Barton paused again. “Stark, are you getting into position or taking a nap?”

_“Take it easy, BirdBoy,”_ Stark gripped, sounding a bit winded. _“It’s not easy keeping this suit under the radar.”_

“I need you to take up a position one or two blocks north of the east entrance,” Barton said. “You’re gonna flush them south toward me and Barnes where we’ll be able to clear them, and you and Nat can recover Cap.”

_“On it. Be in position in two.”_

“Make it one.”

_“Believe it or not, I’m limited by the laws of physics, Legolas.”_

“You good, Barnes?” Barton asked quietly, sending him a knowing look.

“Ready to shoot some sonsofbitches,” Bucky said.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Barton agreed with a grin as he stood back up to full height, drawing another arrow and nocking it.

_“In position,” _Stark finally reported.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Barton said, “light ‘em up!”

Immediately there was the roar of Iron Man’s repulsor blast, and all hell broke loose on the street below them.

Bucky and Barton naturally fell in to a rhythm, Bucky focusing on hostiles on the east and Barton to the west. Barton kept up an impressively steady update of Steve’s location within the mayhem as the men frantically tried to move him away from the inbound Iron Man who was joined quickly by Black Window, unknowingly bringing themselves into Bucky and Barton’s range where it was almost laughably easy to pick them off.

It looked like the whole thing was going to be over in mere minutes as the hostiles’ numbers dropped rapidly.

_“I got eyes on Steve!” _Romanoff finally announced.

“You’ve got a clear path, give ‘em hell!” Barton said. “Stark, watch her three.”

_“Her what?” _Stark asked, confused.

Barton sighed heavily. “Her right side.”

They really should have anticipated what happened next, but they had admittedly been too focused on Steve. The open fire from the rooftop was a dead giveaway of their location. Under normal circumstances, Bucky wouldn’t think twice about that. But as a sniper he was never standing full height on top of a ledge, firing easily trackable arrows down on the scene.

Through his scope, Bucky spotted the first hostile to turn and point his rifle up at their roof. He took the man out with one well-placed shot, but before he could warn Barton, two more had turned and followed suit, sending a wave of bullets up toward them.

“Clint!” Bucky yelled as he instinctively ducked down behind the ledge.

Barton snapped off two more arrows before he bothered to move. He began to drop down to a crouch when the first bullet clipped his right bicep, rotating and throwing him off balance. When the second bullet hit his left leg, he didn’t stand a chance. His leg went backward, pitching his upper body forward…

And he fell.

“Clint!” Bucky yelled again as he was suddenly moving faster than he could think.

In a breath, Bucky was up and lunging his upper body over the ledge, throwing his metal arm out and grasping at anything solid without even pausing to think of the consequences. Not only was it some kind of miracle that Bucky was able to grab Barton before he fell out of reach, but it was damn lucky that he snagged the fabric of the back of Barton’s shirt rather than his flesh. In Bucky’s panic and without regulating his grip strength, Bucky could have easily done more harm than good.

As Bucky took Barton’s full weight, he yelped as the metal tore at the flesh of his shoulder, Barton swinging back to collide with the wall of the building behind him. But when Bucky looked down to see if Barton was okay, he was astonished to see that Barton hardly seemed bothered by his predicament. Instead, while hanging merely by the precarious fabric strength of his shirt, he reached down and drew another arrow from his quiver.

“Watch out, Nat!”

The warning came only a split second before Barton nocked and fired, the arrow flying just over Romanoff’s shoulder in order to take out the hostile that had been coming up behind her as she crouched over where Steve lay on the sidewalk.

“Really, Barton!?” Bucky called, exasperated.

Barton cocked his head to look up at him through shaggy bangs and smiled that annoying – kind of adorable – grin. “What? I wasn’t falling to my death anymore, figured I could lend a hand to keep Nat and Steve from getting shot.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Are you done? Can I pull you up now?”

“I’m waiting on you at this point.”

Bucky grunted as he heaved Barton back up and over the ledge. The fabric of Barton’s shirt groaned at the abuse but shockingly it held as Bucky practically dragged Barton back onto the solid ground of the roof.

_“Barnes, report on Barton,”_ Romanoff demanded, a note of panic betrayed in her tone. _“Is that Жопа still alive up there?” _

Bucky was looking over Barton as he leaned back against the ledge. The crease on his bicep was superficial, barely more than a graze. The shot to his leg had gone straight through his calf, a deep hit that would hurt like a sonofabitch, but not life threatening.

“He’ll live,” Bucky sighed with relief over his pounding heart. “What about Steve?”

_“They hit him with some kind of drug to incapacitate him,” _Romanoff reported. _“Looks like his metabolism is already starting to burn it off though, he’s starting to come back around.” _Bucky heaved another sigh of relief. _“Alright, Barnes, here’s the deal. You take care of mine, I’ll take care of yours and we’ll rendezvous back at the jet.”_

At that, Bucky couldn’t help a half-hysterical snort of laughter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You know I can hear you,” Barton snapped indignantly. “I’m fine, it’s not even that bad.”

_“And _that’s_ why I asked Barnes and not you,” _Romanoff said pointedly, though there was a smile in her voice.

“Okay, tough guy,” Bucky said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Bucky started to shift in order to help Barton up, but then froze as the realization hit him, all sense of relief falling away. Barton had been shot in his right leg, which meant that in order to support him, Bucky would have to use his left arm. The arm that was made of metal, the weapon that had been forced on him by Hydra that he would never be rid of. His arm was a constant, inescapable reminder of all the unforgivable, heinous things that the Winter Soldier had done over the years.

Barton looked up at him, understanding and empathy in those gray-blue eyes.

“It’s okay,” Barton said softly with a reassuring smile. He reached out a trusting hand toward Bucky, beckoning the hated appendage closer. “You are in control now. You won’t hurt me.”

Something constricted in Bucky’s chest. It wasn’t painful, exactly, more like necessary pressure being placed on an open wound.

Bucky took a deep breath before he very carefully moved closer to Barton, conscious of every small move he made. He snaked his left arm behind Barton as he ducked under his arm and then, moving slowly and gingerly, he lifted Barton back up to his feet. Barton grimaced slightly as weight fell on his injured leg, and he shifted to lean more heavily on Bucky.

“You know what?” Barton said, his voice tight. Bucky shot a look over at him, panicked for a moment as he was sure that he was hurting Barton somehow, that Barton had realized how much of a mistake it was to let him near him. “I’m thinkin’ we should take the elevator back down.”

It took Bucky a beat of blankly staring before what Barton said sunk in. And then, he laughed. Not a small snort or amusement, but a full body laugh that he was pretty sure he hadn’t had since before the war.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, supporting Barton as he limped across the roof. “Good idea, gimpy.”

* * *

Steve had been in and out of consciousness for hours now, which admittedly had Bucky a little worried. It was a damn strong drug to have that kind of effect on Captain America of all people. But when they got Steve back to the Tower and Bruce was able to get a look at a blood sample, he assured them that while the poison would have been enough to kill anyone else, Steve was slowly recovering and just needed time and rest.

Bucky sat heavily in a chair at Steve’s bedside, watching his chest rise and fall and assuring himself over and over that his best friend would be okay. Because, god, what would he do without Steve Rogers?

Finally, at long last, Steve began to stir. Bucky sat up immediately, watching intently as Steve’s eyes blearily blinked open, glancing around the white infirmary room with confusion.

“You got poisoned,” Bucky spoke up, causing Steve’s gaze to snap to him. Bucky gave him a reassuring smile. “Doc says you’ll be fine though. That super-soldier serum is apparently good for more than just your looks.”

Steve snorted a weak laugh. He pushed himself up higher on his pillow, wincing. “What happened?”

“Turned out the whole thing was a setup,” Bucky told him. “When Moyer found out Captain America was on the guest list he decided to set up an ambush to try and capture you. Bastard wasn’t even there.”

Steve sighed heavily, looking pained at this revelation. “Was anyone else hurt?”

Of course, that would be Steve’s first thought.

“Barton took a bullet to the calf,” Bucky said. “He’ll be fine though, it was a clean through and through. He’s next door getting stitched up. Everyone else came out unscathed.”

Steve gave a relieved sigh as he sunk back into the pillow. “Thank god.” He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then opened them again to carefully look at Bucky, meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry, Buck. It was supposed to be a nice, easy mission, something to ease you back in to the life. I guess that royally backfired.”

Bucky thought that over for a moment. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Actually, I don’t think it did. It was good to be out there again. It felt good to interact with… with people again.”

“People?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow and smirking slightly.

Bucky shot Steve a suspicious look. Had he planned to trap him and Barton together on that rooftop on what was supposed to be a dull mission?

“You’re awake.” They both turned to see Romanoff in the doorway, smiling. She stepped in to the room. “You gave us a bit of a scare.”

“Sorry about that,” Steve said sheepishly.

“As long as you don’t do it again,” Romanoff laughed. Then she glanced over at Bucky. “The doctor finished stitching up Clint. He was asking for you.”

It was a little embarrassing how quickly Bucky got to his feet. Steve and Romanoff had mirrored amused looks on their faces.

“Guess I’ll see what he wants,” Bucky murmured lamely as he headed out of the room at a carefully measured pace.

As Bucky entered Barton’s infirmary room, he looked the man over carefully. He had a bandage around his bicep, and his jeans had been cut up the right leg in order to give access to his bullet wound, now wrapped in its own sterile bandage.

“You okay?” Bucky asked as he stood awkwardly just inside the doorway.

“I’ve been informed that I’ll live,” Barton said with a smirk. “But doc wants me to stay off the leg for three weeks. Like that’s gonna happen.” He paused and met Bucky’s gaze. “I actually wanted to ask if _you_ were okay.”

“Me?” Bucky said, visible surprised. “You know _I’m_ not the one that got shot, right?”

“Doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a tough day,” Barton pointed out.

Bucky crossed the room and slumped into the chair at Barton’s bedside. “Guess you have a point.”

“Is Steve doing okay?” Barton asked. “Nat said that he should make a full recovery.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, the poison finally seems like it’s wearing off. He’s finally awake and coherent. Another day or so and he’ll likely be good as new.”

Barton smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

They lapsed into silence, but strangely it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like the comfortable silence of two long time friends. Which was odd considering that today was the first day that Bucky had spent any real time with Barton.

“I wanted to thank you,” Bucky suddenly blurted.

Barton arched an amused eyebrow. “For what?”

“For…” He struggled to find the right words. “Treating me like a human being… I guess?”

Barton laughed. “That is an incredibly low bar you set for gratitude there.” He paused. “Hope I haven’t scared you off coming on more missions with us.” It was said casually but there was something more in Barton’s eyes. Hope?

Bucky smiled. “Well, someone has to keep you from falling off of rooftops.”

Barton snorted a laugh. “Nat will be relieved to hear that.”

Bucky thought over his next words carefully. “So, if… if I wanted to talk to you about some stuff… you know, like some of the stuff that we were talking about…” Christ, he sounded like a moron. But as he looked up at Barton, he found that he was simply patiently waiting for Bucky to organize his thoughts. Finally, Bucky decided to just go for it. “You think I could buy you a cup of coffee sometime? You know, so we could talk some more?”

Barton smiled warmly. “Yeah, I think you could twist my arm with a cup of coffee or three sometime.”

Bucky nodded, feeling his heart lifting in his chest. “Alright then,” he said, and he was so completely sure the grin on his face looked like the dumbest thing ever, but Barton didn’t seem to notice or care. “Then… it’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Жопа – Russian for ass/brat


End file.
